


Paroxysms

by ALeighS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Bisexual Ginny Weasley, Cunnilingus, Doctor Harry, Doctor/Patient, Dr. Harry, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Fingerfucking, Maid/Lady, Maid/Mistress, Masturbation, Medical Device, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Scissoring, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering, linny - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-07-07 19:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALeighS/pseuds/ALeighS
Summary: Ginny Weasley is clearly suffering from hysteria, ask anyone! Her pesky insistence that women get the vote and her tendency to hike up her skirts and race after the football are simply not acceptable actions for a young lady of her standing. Her father disapproves, her mother worries, and her handmaid Luna just smiles knowingly. Can a young Dr. Potter help cure her by bringing on hysterical paroxysms? An erotic, Victorian, Muggle AU that no one asked for featuring a bisexual Ginny Weasley.





	1. The Decision

**Author's Note:**

> I....I don't know what happened. 
> 
> This is a far cry from The Good Brother sequel I'm supposed to be working on, but the plot bunny arrived and couldn't be dissuaded. I will admit that I DID just finish watching Hysteria, but in truth, this story stems from a fantasy many, many years in the making. Bless my little bisexual heart. This first chapter doesn't have Dr. Harry, but stay tuned. 
> 
> I think this counts as dubious consent, and it will pretty much be smutty every chapter, so you know- don't like, don't read.

“I won’t go, father! Any doctor who claims that lying his hands upon a woman’s most guarded place will cure her societal ailments is a fraud, a charlatan!”

 

“Not another word, Ginevra!” Arthur Weasley’s ears were red, an amusing contrast to his ginger hair and quivering mustache. His portly belly swelled with indignation beneath his waistcoat as he squinted across the supper dishes towards his youngest child, his only girl, the ever incorrigible Ginevra Weasley. His sons, equally as ginger haired, large in number, shifted uncomfortably, gazing longingly towards the door that would let them escape from the dining room. “Your mother has been treated for hysteria for years! You debase her with these wild accusations!”

 

“I’d say that speaks more to your skills than the doctor’s, father!”

 

Arthur gasped, placing one hand across his breast as though mortally wounded. The lady of the house, however, who did an admirable job of running a tight and diligent household (anyone could speak to it!) rose from the table in one smooth and dangerous movement, slapping her hand upon its linen surface and sending the china rattling. Her sons paled and kept their eyes cast firmly on their plates, not daring to even pick up a fork for fear of the clinking drawing their mother’s ire. A maid with silvery hair, barely contained beneath her bonnet, raised her eyebrows in alarm and glided silently from the room into the kitchen. There was not a single soul in London who would not quell before Molly Weasley’s furious gaze.

 

Other than, perhaps, her daughter.

 

“That is  _ enough,  _ Ginevra,” Molly said sharply. “We will hear no more of your nonsense! While you live in this household, while you continue to refuse every suitor who courts you, you will serve your father! Therefore, this decision is final. You are  _ dismissed! _ ” 

 

“Fine!” Ginevra said, shoving her chair back with a scrape. “I will go to bed without supper then, and should I collapse of starvation, you can call it hysteria and send a doctor to molest me!”

 

The entire house seemed to shudder as the heavy wooden door slammed in her wake. Each stomp of her feet upon the central staircase had her brothers wincing and her mother pressing her mouth into an ever thinner line.

 

The silvery maid was already waiting at the entrance to Ginevra’s room, a hot roll hidden in her apron and an amused smile upon her pale face. Ginevra stormed through the open door and threw herself onto her waiting bed, the dusty curtains framing the four-poster rustling as it shook upon its frame. The maid closed the door with deliberate, gentle movements, sliding its heavy weight firmly into the frame. The click was clearly audible when she locked it behind her.

 

“Oh, Luna, it’s simply not fair!” Ginevra wailed from the bed, her voice muffled by her position, face down in the blankets. The maid’s indulgent smile never wavered as she approached her mistress, depositing the warm roll beside her face.

 

Ginevra moaned in obvious delight, rolling over and grabbing the roll, which she stuffed inside her mouth in one smooth movement. Luna offered her a slender, pale hand, and Ginevra grasped it firmly, allowing the maid to drag her upright off the bed.

 

“Let me remove this for you, Miss,” Luna said, touching Ginevra’s gown in a familiar way. “Your disposition will improve when you are more comfortable.

 

Ginevra glanced at her sharply, and then her lips spread in a devious way.

 

Ginevra was a pretty girl and she knew it, made all the more so by the mirth that lingered in this peculiar, hungry smile. Her ginger hair was a shade darker than her father's, and though it resisted curling despite hours spent rolling it into metal rods, it was thick and vivid and touched her waist when loose. Her clever brown eyes were large and almond in shape, framed by spidery auburn lashes which made up for in length what they lacked in thickness. Her complexion was surprisingly peachy for one so pale, her lips a smirking salmon, with a small smattering of freckles dusted across her nose.

 

These freckles continued down her shoulders and breasts, though none but her maid and her mother had ever seen them. They were revealed now as Luna removed her outer gown and loosened her corset strings, sliding her silken cream chemise from her body. Ginevra stood there, naked, her creamy skin marked by lines where her corset had dug uncomfortably or her chemise had wrinkled beneath her outer layers. Luna saw these and brushed her hand against them, vowing to do better tomorrow. Then, she placed one lingering kiss on the proud curve of Ginevra’s neck.

 

Next came the hair, each of the pins removed slowly, the silky strands falling to curve gently over her mistress’s breasts and shapely waist. Luna took up a comb with a pearlescent handle and brought it gently through the loosened tresses, her tiny, birdlike hands deftly removing knots. Ginevra sighed and leaned back her head as Luna worked, moaning aloud when the maid’s tiny fingertips made their way to her lady’s scalp, where she gently scratched and rubbed away the strain the pinned hair had left there.

 

Finally, Luna’s hands stilled, and Ginevra turned to face her, the lazy enjoyment sharpening into an expression of pure wanting. Luna smiled at her and took Ginevra’s face between her two hands. They were chill to the touch and Ginevra shivered.

 

“Oh, Ginny,” the maid said. “I do care for you, so.”

 

With much less grace and subtlety, Ginny placed a firm hand on the back of Luna’s neck, pulling her maid, her oldest friend, her lover, towards her with an assertive grip. Their mouths met in a way that was eager and familiar, Ginny’s wide and wicked lips meeting Luna’s pert and pillowy ones without hesitation. They kissed, kissed, and kissed again, Ginny’s hand still firmly in place on her maid’s neck, Luna’s slender fingers now dropped to Ginny’s shoulders. It was Luna who opened her mouth and darted out a slender tongue, and Ginny moaned and parted her lips.

 

Everything about Luna was sharp and pointed and slight. Ginny loved this, loved to place their arms side-by-side and compare her round, finely turned one to Luna’s hard, thin limbs. She liked to picture what they must look like as they were intimate, the fantastic and artistic contrast they made. Luna’s pale skin was wintery and porcelain, like bones entwined with Ginny’s creamy ivory as they thrust into each other’s fingers upon the bed. Her hair so blonde it was almost silver, and curled in ringlets around her face when released from its bonds. But the best were her breasts, tiny and topped with rigid nipples that stood at attention no matter the occasion, surrounded by startling brown areolas, a spot of spilled tea upon an otherwise pristine tablecloth.

 

“Oh, your gown scratches!” Ginny complained, pulling back from Luna and gazing into her face. The girl’s eyes were perpetually wide, so pale a blue that they looked almost lavender, and Ginny sometimes thought she could peer right past them into Luna’s mysterious, whimsical mind.

 

The servants whispered that Luna was touched, that the gas explosion which had killed her parents had left her with one foot permanently in the realm of the dead.  How generous were the Weasley’s to take Luna in as a maid for their only daughter, saving her from a life on the streets! Ginny thought this was all poppycock; it would be clear to anyone who bothered to look that _Luna_ had saved _Ginny_ from a life of vapidness, forever more limited than her six older brothers by the simple presence of the snatch beneath her thighs.

 

“Let me remove this,” Ginny said, reaching for Luna’s laces with an efficient and blunt hand. Luna revelled in taking her time, peeling off layers of defensiveness along with each layer of cloth, leaving Ginny bare and vulnerable underneath. Ginny revelled in bringing the floods of bliss to Luna, listening to her high pitched keening as she clenched magnificently under Ginny’s fingers and tongue. This goal meant she had little patience for the process as she roughly shoved down Luna’s narrowly-cut outer dress, still partially laced up the front, and then yanked the rough chemise over Luna’s jutting shoulders and hips.

 

“Ah,” Ginny said, licking her lips as her lover’s hard nipples were revealed.

 

“Indeed,” Luna murmured. She took her lady by the hand and led her to the bed.

 

Ginny pulled Luna down beside her and immediately moved to straddle Luna’s board-straight waist. Luna resisted her, however, a gentle smile on her face as she shook her head and pressed Ginny back down into the downy mattress. She hovered over her lady instead, kissing her neck and shoulders and breasts, down her gently sloping belly and back up to her lips. In contrast to the hard and desperate kisses of before, Luna’s movements were languid, fluid and unhurried. She slid one leg over Ginny, pressing their quims close together, her wavy blonde feather mixing with Ginny’s silky red one. Ginny let out a deep and guttural moan. Luna was glad she had closed and locked the door, and she stretched to either side of the four-poster to pull the curtains closed.

 

Now dimly lit, Luna slid her body down Ginny’s, placing her pale pink lips over Ginny’s nipples and licking in rapid, gentle strokes with the queer, pointed tip of her tongue. Luna loved Ginny’s breasts, which were very round and wide set and sloped into a gently pointed cone, the small nipples rarely hardening, though her peachy areolas were as puffy as a pastry. It was an unanswerable mystery that anyone could think their love was immoral based on perceived similarity; to Luna, their differences were as drastic as those between Ginny and any of her intended suitors.

 

Soon, Ginny was gasping in breaths and letting them out in deep groans, her hands roughly thrust in Luna’s hair, gripping the girl’s head against her breasts to urge harder swirls of her tongue. Luna grinned against Ginny’s nipple, which had finally began to harden, and placed her thick lips around it fully, sucking properly. Ginny let out a long moan, hands falling from Luna’s head to help her propel her body from the mattress, pressing ever closer to Luna’s mouth. Luna tapped her tongue against Ginny in rapid thrusts, even as she continued to suck.

 

“Oh, oh!” Ginny murmured. “Oh, Luna, I adore you, _mmmm._ ”

 

Ginny brought one knee up sharply under Luna, the downy hair there creating a delicious texture against which Luna was not too shy to rub her aching snatch. Now switching breasts, Luna ground her hips, feeling her slickness coat Ginny’s leg. Ginny placed her hands on either side of Luna’s head and Luna released her mouth just in time, popping off wetly as Ginny yanked Luna’s mouth to her own.

 

They rolled, Ginny wrenching their legs and lips apart as they tumbled. Panting, Ginny met Luna’s eyes with a blazing and determined look, her cheeks flushed. Ginny swiftly pushed one of Luna’s legs into a crouched position, sliding one of her own legs underneath it, while her other slid to rest along Luna’s hips. Their pelvises now carefully positioned close together, Ginny smiled her wicked, clever smile and _thrust_.

 

Luna’s reactions really were the best, high, breathy sounds that Ginny had tried and failed to describe with words- squeaks, almost, but more sensual, mewls or yelps that were so uninhibited and natural that the mere memory of them was nearly enough to bring Ginny to her tumbling, blissful end on the nights when they could not share a bed.

 

Ginny thrust again, then brought their twats close together, grinding her hips in a circular motion that had them both gasping and panting.

 

“Oh, oh, oh!” Ginny murmured, voice low and reverent.

 

“Yes,” Luna echoed. “Oh, yes…” and then that high, close mouthed moan that Ginny _so_ loved…

 

Ginny, overstimulated as she was by Luna’s ministrations on her nipples, could help it- she broke, convulsing and thrusting against Luna in erratic strokes, feeling the lips of her cunt tightening and quivering against Luna’s dampened curls. She let out a long, low moan, clutching Luna’s thin leg for support, Luna’s gently stroking fingertips leaving tingly ripples on Ginny’s legs, side, face. Finally, she slumped, forehead pressed firmly against her lover’s knee, panting, tears and sweat mingling on her face.

 

“My sweet, my darling, my lady,” Luna whispered. She sat up gently to better place her arms around Ginny, holding her there as she trembled with aftershocks. Soft kisses pressed to Ginny’s hairline brought a sigh to her lips. When Luna gently moved the long red hair from Ginny’s sweaty neck, the rush of chilled air was both a relief and a stimulant.

 

Ginny sat up and moved back.

 

“You look like a cat who got into the cream,” Luna murmured.

 

Ginny was, indeed, very satisfied, but not as much as she could be.

 

“Not yet,” Ginny replied. With a sudden movement, she slid her hand up Luna’s thigh and plunged her middle finger into her soaking twat, hooking it forward against her lover’s spongy walls. Luna gasped and fell back onto the bed, spreading her legs shamelessly.

 

Ginny took her in- blonde hair a curly halo, large eyes closed and cloaked in lavender shadows, nipples harder and more wrinkled than ever, curly blonde pubic hair darkened and damp.

 

She loved her.

 

Still stradling one of Luna’s legs, Ginny used her left hand to rub at the apex of Luna’s pubic lips, feeling the round bundle of nerves there as it swelled and strained. With her other hand, Ginny continued to penetrate her companion, pulling her hand out and gliding it back in with smooth, practiced movements. Every third or so thrust, Ginny circled her fingertip along the spongy front wall. She closed her eyes, caught in the rhythm, cataloguing each sound, calculating each surge of wetness as Luna’s cunt became more and more inflamed.

 

“Oh, Ginny, another finger, please,” Luna whispered between thrusts. Ginny did as she was bid, sliding her ring finger alongside her middle. Luna keened and arched her hips from the bed. Ginny knew what she wanted and hastened to move from Luna’s trapped leg.

 

Limbs free, Luna scrambled to place her feet underneath her hips, thrusting her snatch high.  Ginny had to raise on her knees to keep up her pace, now barely pulling her fingers from where they were buried within Luna. She pressed in, eyes sliding closed once again, all feeling removed except the clenching of Luna’s moist walls around her digits.

 

“Tongue, tongue,” Luna begged. It was easy, with her back arched at so dramatic an angle, for Ginny to lower her head to Luna and lick. She started with gentle flicks, but Luna thrashed her head back and forth and moaned piteously, so Ginny pressed forward harder with direct circles. Fingers and tongue synched as she worked, head bobbing in time to her thrusting fingers, circles mirrored on the inside and outside of Luna’s slender, silver body.

 

“Yes,” Luna keened. “Yes, oh-”

 

It was coming, that agony of bliss would wash over Luna soon. Ginny pressed harder, firmer, knuckles brushing Luna’s hard pelvic opening, nose smashed against her pubic mound, but it didn’t matter, it was only a few seconds off-!

 

A quiet, high pitched wail escaped Luna moments before her twat clamped down on Ginny’s fingers, contracting so firmly it almost hurt. Ginny revelled in the sensation, Luna’s arousal dripping down her arm and chin,  warm trickles ticklish against her sweaty skin. Luna’s orgasm washed over her like waves, a rolling heat that spread from the small of her back outward in many rippled layers, each punctuated by a clenching convulsion around Ginny’s hand and against her still eager tongue.

 

“Oh!” Luna finally gasped, her shaking legs giving out as her hips dropped heavily onto the mattress. A watercolor was being painted behind her lids, muted colors flitting past with each heavy hump of her heart. She opened her arms wide and Ginny slunk up her side, curling heavily against Luna’s chest. Luna wrapped her arm around her mistress and dropped a blind kiss into her fragrant, silky hair.

 

They dozed, sweat drying in the stale air.

 

After some time, Luna slowly untangled her arm from underneath her lover and slid from the bed. The parting curtains let in fresh air and Ginny stirred, opening her dazed brown eyes to peer at her maid. Luna moved fluidly about the room, gathering their gowns and pressing them into the wardrobe, fetching a small basin of water, a hunk of soap, and a washcloth. Luna dipped the fabric into the water and rung it out, passing it along her thighs and quim.

 

“We must wash, Ginny,” Luna whispered, catching her lover’s eyes upon her. “The germs, you know. They will cause infection.”

 

Germs were one of the many strange things Luna believed in, along with mediums who could speak to ghosts and a lack of hell for them to go to when God revealed their sapphic sins. Ginny wasn’t sure what of it was true and what was fancy, though Luna did go to reading rooms on her two days off a month, and had a collection of cut-out articles in the small chamber she slept in adjacent to Ginny’s quarters.

 

Ginny moaned and rolled from the bed reluctantly. Luna came to her with that indulgent, adoring smile, bearing the freshly rinsed cloth in her hand. Ginny frowned as Luna stroked it down her belly and over her pubic hair.

 

“It’s cold!”

 

“I could hardly go down to the kitchens to warm it,” Luna pointed out. Ginny pouted.

 

“Yes, very well.”

 

Luna just smiled again and gazed at Ginny as though she was an object to be worshipped. Luna seemed to know what she was thinking, and knelt before her as though at an alter, rubbing the washcloth between her hands to warm it.

 

Luna swept her eyes over Ginny. She was still flushed, as redheads tended to be, her skin mottled peachy pink across her chest and inside the turn of her thighs. Luna ran the cloth once more over her belly and pubic mound, murmuring her thanks when Ginny parted her legs to allow Luna access. This close, Luna could see that she had a rash rubbed raw at the very top of her thighs and across the edges of her cunt lips. Luna carefully pressed the cloth there, smiling when Ginny moaned, then rinsed it out and repeated the process with fresh, un-soaped water.

 

Satisfied, she slid her mistress’s nightgown over her head. It was barely dark, Ginny having been sent to her room so early in the evening, but Luna could tell her lady was getting tired, worn from their activities. She slid her own, rather rougher gown on as well, and pulled both their hair into plaits.

 

Ginny settled back upon the bed. Luna pulled her sheets and covers tight, before dropping a kiss upon her forehead.

 

Ginny reached out a hand to grab her behind the neck, pulling her in for a proper kiss.

 

“I’m scared,” Ginny whispered, and Luna smiled. This was always the result; a satisfied, well-loved Ginevra Weasley was a vulnerable, open one. “How can I let some man- some _old_ man- touch me there? Do to me what you do? In front of my _mother?_ ”

 

Luna sat down beside her and leaned against the headboard. Ginny moved her head to Luna’s lap and curled tight against her, looking suddenly small and young and impossibly soft. Luna’s heart ached in her chest.

 

“You can’t change who you are,” she whispered. “You can try to hold your tongue, but you will slip up again and again. They will send you to the sanitarium if you don’t let them treat you.”

 

“I cannot lose you,” Ginny whispered. Luna’s gown grew damp with Ginny’s silently coursing tears.

 

“Never,” Luna vowed. “You must do the treatment. They say…” she hesitated. “They say that it is all the convulsions of being intimate, but without the pleasure.”

 

“I am intimate with you often enough,” Ginny sniffed. “If that were to truly help make me docile, why, I should think I would be the most docile girl in London!”

 

“It is an act,” Luna agreed. “But one you must put up with to avoid being declared insane.”

 

They both shuddered, thinking on what would happen should their relationship be discovered.

 

“Perhaps you could pretend it is working,” Luna said. “Thrash and convulse quickly, so that the treatment can be over.”

 

“Oh, I hate it! Why must it be a man?”

 

Luna hummed.

 

“I have never felt the desire for a man before, myself,” she acknowledged. “But I know you have, when we were younger.”

 

Ginny looked up at her then, brown eyes sharp and red rimmed.

 

“I cannot bare to think of it, now that I have you!”

 

“Ginny,” Luna said soothingly. “You will take a husband, some day, and I will go with you. You will always have me. But would it not be better for the husband to at least be someone you find pleasing?”

 

“What does this have to do with tomorrow?” Ginny asked sharply, sitting up and turning away. She brushed her long red hair over her shoulder. “You may be dismissed, Luna.”

 

Ginny liked to revert to her lady-like status when she was frustrated with their conversations. Luna knew this to be true and took no hardness from it. Luna had been observed as having “a curious lack of ego”, and so Ginny’s abruptness didn’t bother her.

 

“Yes, Miss,” she said, brushing her fingertips through Ginny’s hair near the scalp the way her mistress liked it. Ginny’s shoulders slumped and she curled back onto the bed. Luna re-tucked the blankets around her.

 

“Maybe you can pretend it’s me,” Luna whispered, pressing a soft kiss to each of Ginny’s closed eyelids. “Close your eyes and imagine me there. Imagine that I have sent my spirit into the doctor’s body, that I have taken over to show him the proper way to pleasure my lady.”

 

Ginny smiled without opening her eyes.

 

“Perhaps. I can try.”


	2. Chapter 2: Dr. Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny reluctantly attends an appointment to induce hysterical paroxysms, and is surprised by the treatment she receives.

**Chapter 2: Dr. Potter**

 

The building where Ginny was to be grievously assaulted (or treated, if you listened to her mother) looked much like any other house on the cobblestone street. It was built of brick and sandwiched on either side by two identical houses, which were sandwiched in turn. Ginny imagined being a bird, flying high above the streets, glancing down and thinking they were filled with brick-colored caterpillars, short white staircases giving the illusion of legs. This imagery amused her, and reminded her of Luna. At this thought, her smile dropped. 

 

“Come, dear,” her mother said, just a hint of brittleness in her voice. “Don’t slouch so.” 

 

Ginny straightened her shoulders and ascended one of the staircases, running a gloved hand over a plaque near the door. 

 

  1. DOUGLAS KIRKHAM



PHYSICIAN SPECIALIZING in WOMEN

 

Mrs. Weasley opened the door without hesitation and stepped inside. Ginny followed at a much slower pace, pretending to adjust her gown and smoothing her hands over her hair. 

 

The hall was cheerfully lit, electric lanterns lighting their way to the main parlour. Ginny winced at the sound of their feet against the hardwood underneath, sure that they would attract eyes as they entered. Wanting nothing more than to turn and run back outside, Ginny reluctantly allowed her mother to steer her through the room of waiting ladies, cheeks burning and eyes cast firmly downwards. 

 

“Lady Weasley!” The receptionist said, marking something down in a yellowed appointment book. “Your daughter has consented to come at last?”

 

“She has, though with a willful tongue,” Mrs. Weasley acknowledged. 

 

“Dr. Kirkham will be pleased to hear it,” the receptionist said. “Ginevra?”

 

Ginny nodded without looking up. 

 

“Are you deaf as well as hysterical, child? Look up!” 

 

Ginny did, fiercely, and was pleased to see the woman recoil at the expression on her face. 

 

“Oh, you  _ will  _ be a difficult case!”

 

Ginny said nothing. Mrs. Weasley simpered her apologies, grabbing her daughter by the arm and steering her forcefully onto a chaise lounge nearby. 

 

Inside one of the rooms, a woman moaned. Ginny was grateful for the couch then; she had a feeling if she had been standing, her knees would have gave out in fear. She thought of Luna again and closed her eyes.

 

When their names were called, Ginny rose as slow as she dared, but Mrs. Weasley did not hesitate to dig her pinching fingers back into Ginny’s arm. They moved into an office off the main parlour and sat in plush armchairs before a great wooden desk. Mrs. Weasley gave Ginny one last harsh look and hissed “behave yourself.”

 

“I can’t be expected to control myself,” Ginny said back through a clenched smile. “I’m hysterical.”

 

“Your mother has told me much about your willful attitude, child,” a voice said. Ginny got her first look at the doctor then, as he moved through a side door and into the plush, carpeted office. He was an older gentleman, about five and fifty, with all the hallmarks of a man at such an age. His hair, which might once have been blonde, was now a course and wiry silver. His face and hands were speckled with brown age spots. His pale eyes were rhummy and disdainful. 

 

Luna had silver hair, and brown nipples, and pale eyes, but this man could not have been more different than Luna. Ginny was to be tortured by their similarities, she could see that now. She had hoped to close her eyes and picture Luna; the universe mocked her with this perverted imitation. 

 

“Tell me again of her symptoms, Lady Weasley,” the doctor commanded, striding to his desk and sitting behind it. 

 

“She is quarrelsome, violent, and vulgar, doctor,” Ginny’s mum said without hesitation. “Sometimes we catch her outside, with her skirts tied above her knees, running around with her brothers or the neighborhood urchins! She argues most passionately that she should be allowed the same freedoms as her brothers, and when we deny her- rightfully so - she slams doors and knocks furniture on its end.

 

“We have found her with suffrage pamphlets, doctor, stuffed between her chemise and breast! More than once we have had to take to the streets like hunting dogs, only to find her in the park with those rabble rousers, shouting and holding signs. She plays tricks on her tutors, you see, locks them in rooms while she slips out through the servants’ passageways.

 

“She has ran off three suitors this way, and she is nearly nineteen.” Here, Mrs. Weasley paused to glare at her youngest child. “All of my other children are married or courting,  _ even  _ Frederick and George, my mischievous twins, who I have told you dabble in illusion and magicks. They dote on Ginevra, no doubt, and it is from them that she has learned her trickery.

 

“I am at a loss, doctor, at a complete loss indeed.”

 

Ginny burned to argue, her tongue hot in her mouth, but she heard Luna’s sweet voice warning her to be calm and clamped her mouth shut. This didn’t seem to engender her to the doctor at all, however. Ginny knew she must look petulant.

 

“Yes,” the doctor said, standing now and striding around the desk, leaning over Ginny’s chair. He grabbed her chin and turned it this way and that. She couldn’t help it; she yanked her head from his grip. “Quite,” he murmured, unperturbed. 

 

“You yourself were a feisty young newlywed, Molly,” the doctor said. “Hysteria can often run in families.”

 

“I had three young boys and a staff of four to look after,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Ginevra has no responsibilities, none at all!”

 

“Hmm,” the doctor said. “Quite pale, eyes feverish, muscles twitching. Potter! Are you taking note?”

 

Ginny jumped then and yanked her head around. In her determination to keep the doctor in her sights, she had failed to notice a man lurking near the still-open side door. He moved forward now, his stance apologetic, though towards the patient or the doctor, Ginny couldn’t say. 

 

“This is my apprentice, Dr. Potter,” Dr. Kirkham said dismissively. “I believe we will have him treat you today, Miss Ginevra. My appointment book is filled to the brim, as of late, so all new patients will be treated by Dr. Potter. Should Ginevra prove to be particularly difficult to treat, I will take over.”

 

Here he sighed, as though greatly encumbered by the mere thought of taking on another patient. 

 

“I have the notes here, Dr. Kirkham,” Dr. Potter said. Ginny was surprised to see he was younger than she had expected, perhaps only two-or-three and twenty. She couldn’t say if this made her more or less nervous. The young doctor was rather handsome, though slight and short, with messy black hair that fell over his face rather artfully. He wore round spectacles, the frames of which cupped his ears. Most curiously, across his forehead he had a jagged scar. 

 

“I am not sure about an apprentice treating my daughter…” Mrs. Weasley said, gazing curiously at the young man. “He seems rather inexperienced.”

 

“I have worked the frontlines, ma’am,” Dr. Potter said, bowing to them slightly. “I assure you, despite my youth, I pride myself on my work. I read all the latest scientific journals, in English and French.”

 

Mrs. Weasley looked at Ginny, who felt more miserable than ever. 

 

“Did you get that scar from the front-lines?” Ginny asked boldly.

 

“Ginevra,” Mrs. Weasley hissed. “I apologize, Dr. Potter…”

 

“No matter,” the young doctor said with an easy smile. “Everyone wishes to know. I appreciate that the young miss asked, rather than whispering behind closed doors. I was wounded, yes, but as an infant. An explosion that killed my parents. I was the ward of a doctor, on the French border.” 

 

Ginny stared at him then.  _ Luna’s  _ parents had been killed in an explosion when she was a young child. She thought again of Luna’s command- “close your eyes and imagine me there.” It was this strange similarity that made her rise and nod. 

 

“I will consent to be treated by Dr. Potter,” she said, proud that her voice hardly waivered. 

 

“Excellent!” Dr. Kirkham clapped his hands, before offering one to draw Mrs. Weasley to her feet. Her mother still looked apprehensive and Dr. Kirkham noted. Ginny saw his nearly imperceptible sigh before he spoke again. “I will supervise Dr. Potter as he begins the treatment.” 

 

Mrs. Weasley smiled then and offered her arm to Ginny, who took it reluctantly. She was beginning to regret her brave words from earlier, even more so when she noticed that Dr. Potter looked as nervous as she felt. 

 

“How long have you been apprenticing under Dr. Kirkham, Dr. Potter?” Ginny asked, following the doctors through the side door. She stopped short and her mother nearly trod on her hem. 

 

“Come, Ginevra,” Mrs. Weasley said, yanking her daughter through the door. 

 

“Two weeks, Miss Weasley,” Dr. Potter said, looking awkwardly from mother to daughter. “Does the equipment frighten you?”

 

“She will be fine,” Mrs. Weasley snapped. “Ginevra, please.” 

 

Now Ginny was gripping her mother’s arm, true fear shivering inside her breast. There was a strange piece of furniture in the center of the room. It looked like a bed, but raised higher than normal off the ground. Two wooden poles protruded from its end, with leather straps looped about the top. Alongside the bed were a number of other strange items, including two more stiff wooden poles and a wheeled table adorned with bottles of ointment and oils. Something was burning fragrantly in the room and the smell of it made Ginny’s head spin. 

 

“If you could just step up here, Miss Weasley,” the older doctor said curtly, gesturing to a wooden stool placed near the bed. Ginny did as she was bid, sliding awkwardly from the stool to the the examination bed. At the doctor’s barked order, her mother knelt to help her unlace her boots.

 

“Legs here, please, and, uh, lie back,” Dr. Potter said, patting the end of the bed. His voice was nervous. 

 

Ginny leaned back against the queer bed, her heart pounding so hard she could feel her neck pulsing. Dr. Potter moved to the side of the bed. The glass bottles rattled when he bumped the cart, the stopper clanking against its container as he moved to pull it out. 

 

“Dr. Potter, the curtain!” Dr. Kirkham snapped. 

 

“Oh, er, yes,” Dr. Potter said. “I’m very sorry.”

 

Who he was apologizing to was unclear. Dr. Kirkham sighed. 

 

“He really is a prodigy,” the older doctor said to her mother, speaking over Ginny’s prone body as though she wasn’t lying there, paralyzed with fear. “But he’s never treated such a young lady before. We generally see more refined ladies, such as yourself.” 

 

Ginny glanced over at the young doctor reflexively. He was glancing at her as well, embarrassment evident on his easily-read face.  His eyes were a startling green behind his spectacles. They met her gaze and they both blushed and looked away. 

 

Dr. Potter moved one of the wooden posts around the bed to Ginny’s other side, level with her elbow. It had metal loops affixed to it. Ginny felt a sudden flash of fear that they would bind her arms before they raised her skirts. The thought brought visceral panic up her throat and she jolted upwards. 

 

“You’re okay, dear,” her mother said, touching her arm gently. Ginny looked at her mother, surprised at the tone, and was gratified to see that her mother seemed to finally understand how truly frightened she was. “Dr. Potter will tie a curtain there, you see, to protect your modesty as he treats you.”

 

Ginny laid back down slowly. True to her mother’s words, Dr. Potter was now pulling out a thick length of plush red velvet. He tied it to the posts. His jaw was clenching and unclenching, his eyes hard as jade stones. Ginny wondered if she had inspired anger in him with her fretting. Fear mixed with shame in her throat, and she swallowed hard against the tears that pressed there. 

 

“The doctor is going to help you place your legs into the stirrups,” her mother said. Mrs. Weasley’s voice was low and soothing. “This is to help you hold them up if you get tired. The treatment can sometimes take awhile, especially your first time.”

 

“Yes, it is good Dr. Potter is here,” Kirkham said in an irritated voice. “He has enviable stamina, I assure you.”

 

Dr. Potter touched her ankle then, and Ginny blushed further. He took her heel in one hand and raised her leg to set it in one of the strippups.The leather was warm and supple, but her fear was not assuaged by this or his gentle movements as he strapped it around her foot. Ginny shivered as Dr. Potter cupped her other foot and repeated the process. The stirrups held her legs apart and she felt a slight draft snake under her skirts to her bare legs beneath. 

 

Ginny felt her face go redder, her chest and cheeks hot with the shame of it. The older doctor, Dr. Kirkham, watched impassively from the door. "Steady now," he said, and Ginny wasn't sure who he was talking to.

 

Dr. Potter moved back around near her head, reaching for the bottle of oil again. His sleeve caught a jar of salve, knocking it to the floor. 

 

Dr. Kirkham groaned. Under cover of his berating words, Dr. Potter knelt at Ginny’s side. 

 

“Sigh and moan,” he whispered. 

 

Ginny jerked her head around and he met her eyes, the nervousness now gone from their hard, green depths. Her mind raced. 

 

“ _ Sigh  _ and  _ moan _ ,” he repeated. Then louder, he said “I’m so sorry, Miss Weasley, Lady Weasley. Do forgive me.”

 

“Get on with it, Potter,” Dr. Kirkham snapped. “I have patients waiting.”

 

“You can go on,” Ginny said, trying to sound haughty. “You have assured me that Dr. Potter is a fine doctor, have you not?”

 

Mrs. Weasley hemmed and hawed, but this was the most courage Ginny had shown so far, and it was clear that Mrs. Weasley didn’t want to lose the momentum. 

 

Dr. Kirkham left through the door to his office, closing it behind him with a huff. Dr. Potter straightened his shoulders and finished oiling up his hands. He moved behind the curtain with surprising grace, his earlier clumsiness gone. Ginny laid her head down and stared straight up at the ceiling. It was richly panelled. She began to count the squares. 

 

She felt the chilly air before she realized that he had slid her skirts up just slightly. He brushed the back of his hand along her ankle and calf as he reached up beneath the fabric. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, the fear returning in a crushing wave. A small trickle of tears leaked from the corners of her eyes into her hair. She dared not brush them away, in case her mother saw. 

 

Dr. Potter stopped moving his hand upward, his oiled knuckles still pressed against her inner thigh. 

 

“Are you well, Miss Weasley?” He asked. 

 

“Yes,” she squeaked out. 

 

He moved his knuckles rigorously across her thigh. It was a strange but not altogether unpleasant feeling. She glanced at her mother in surprise and Mrs. Weasley smiled encouragingly at her. This, surely, could not be what all the fuss was about?

 

“Do not be embarrassed if you find yourself shaking or making noise,” Doctor Potter said. “It is an involuntary response as the uterus moves back into place. The treatment should culminate in a hysterical paroxysm, a sudden intense convulsion of the body, often accompanied by untempered words or sounds. It is completely normal and outside of your control, Miss Weasley. 

 

It was the most he had said at one time the entire session. It sounded rehearsed. Suddenly, Ginny understood his movements on her thighs. From their position behind the curtain, it must seem that he was touching her vulva and rubbing vigorously  

 

“Mmm,” she murmured, unconvincingly. She glanced upwards at her mother, who was studiously avoiding catching her eye. “Ahh.”

 

“There we have it,” Dr. Potter said. He flipped his hand over slowly, his knuckles rolling against her leg. The other side of his hand was slick and cold. He placed it firmly down on the front of her thigh, rolling his thumb into her muscles, releasing aches there she didn’t realize she was suffering from. 

 

She moaned then, a true moan, and felt her cheeks color again. 

 

“That’s good, Miss Weasley, very good,” Dr. Potter encouraged her in a strange voice. He sounded pained. She wondered if playacting was as unnatural for him as it was for her. 

 

The doctor continued in this way for some time, stroking and kneading the skin along her upper thighs, carefully avoiding touching her along her labia. Ginny suspected that if her mother knew, she would consider this touch more intimate than the other, but Ginny was relieved to be given the choice of who would touch her quim. 

 

When Dr. Potter switched legs, Ginny gasped, and she saw her mother’s tiny, please smile as she turned her head away firmly. 

 

“Lady Weasley,” the doctor spoke into the silence. “We are getting near, but have some time left still. Sometimes patients are better able to complete their treatment with privacy.”

 

“Oh!” Molly Weasley looked uncertain. “I’m not sure. Is it quite appropriate…?”

 

“Mother! You’re the one who said there was nothing improper about the treatment at all!” 

 

Mrs. Weasley gazed at Ginny then, brushing her hair back off her forehead. Her eyes were concerned. 

 

“It would be easy to be taken advantage of,” her mother said in a low voice. “Without a chaperone. If it were Dr. Kirkham, whom I know…”

 

Ginny softened then, touched at her mother’s worry, despite its late arrival. 

 

“I’ll be okay, mother,” she told her, reaching to grasp one of her hands. “I am feeling much more confident now. Perhaps the treatment is starting to work?”

 

“Lady Weasley, I hate to rush,” Dr. Potter broke in. “But it easy for the progress of the treatment to slip, if interruptions occur for too long, and I do truly believe privacy may be just when Miss Weasley requires…”

 

Her mother nodded her ascent and rose, smoothing her skirts and squeezing Ginny’ hand one last time. 

 

“Call out if you need anything,” she said. “I’ll be right outside the door in the office.” Here she glanced at Dr. Potter, daring him to deny her this right. He nodded, unfazed. 

 

As the door snapped shut behind her mother, Dr. Potter began to slide his hands out from beneath Ginny’s skirts. 

 

“Wait,” Ginny whispered. He froze, his large hand on her calf. Ginny felt her cheeks grow inflamed again. “She might be listening. Best keep going for a minute.”

 

Dr. Potter didn’t point out that Ginny could have faked her moaning. Instead, he simply put more oil on his hands, rubbing them together before placing one on each ankle. The hand he had been using was warm and slick. It made a delicious contrast to his left hand, which was chilled, oil pooled in the center of his palm. Ginny realized she had tensed under his hand, straining her legs just slightly to be pressed closer to him. He made a small noise and began to move his hands up and down.

 

As his hands crept higher, she felt him lean over her, putting more weight and strength into his pressing palms. She moaned again, especially when he began to clench his hands in earnest over both her thighs in unison. Whether intentionally or not, his weight was spreading her legs apart. She felt her twat lips part and was only slightly surprised to feel that she was slick. 

 

“Moan louder,” Dr. Potter whispered in a jagged voice. “Some women gasp or cry out.”

 

He had no way of knowing that Ginny was intimately familiar with the reactions that often accompanied a “hysterical paroxysm”, a fact that gave her great pleasure. She wondered if he had ever laid with a woman. 

 

_ I have _ , she thought viciously. A flash of excitement surged through her, the same feeling she had when she escaped her tutors or pranked her brother Percy with Fred and George. 

 

“Oh,” she called out, a wicked smile on her lips. She hoped the doctor was uncomfortable, as uncomfortable as she had been when Dr. Kirkham had directed her on to the bed. “Oh, doctor!” 

 

“Don’t do that!” he hissed. “Don’t name me!”

 

“Potter!” Ginny called, thrashing out on the bed, rattling the wooden posts as she yanked her ankles this way and that. The doctor snatched back his hands, leaving her legs tingling and lonely. She sat up the best she could, belted as she was, and grinned at him over the velvet curtain. He was red as an apple. 

 

“Oh, doctor, don’t stop, oh! Mmm! There! It comes, it rushes!” 

 

He threw his arm over his eyes in embarrassment, unable to cover his face with his oily hands. His glasses were knocked askew. 

 

“Miss Weasley!” He hissed. 

 

“Yes! Oh! OH!”

 

Ginny let her body fall back on the table, shaking the posts a few more times for good measure. 

 

Her heart was beating fast in her chest, fluttering behind her eyelids and in her fingertips. It was almost as though her pleasure had come upon her in reality. Teasing the doctor had arose a strange and exhilarating energy in her. 

 

She began to giggle in the silence. She opened her eyes and jerked her head about the room, trying to find the doctor. His back was to her as he washed his hands at a basin. 

 

“Please release my ankles, Dr. Potter,” she said in a falsely demure voice. The back of his neck went red. When he turned, his cheeks were very flushed. 

 

“Certainly, Miss Weasley,” he said. His fingers brushed her ankles very gently as he undid the straps. It was a relief to let her aching legs down onto the bed. 

 

She swung her legs down and stood, smoothing her skirts. 

 

“Your oil is running down my legs,” she whispered slyly. “Or perhaps those are my very own juices.”

 

“Miss Weasley, you entrap me!” Dr. Potter said, wiping his forehead nervously. “You led me to believe you were a nervous young maiden. Now you speak with the tongue of a lady of the night!”

 

Ginny, who had been kneeling to replace her boots, glanced sharply up at him. 

 

“And so what if I was?” She hissed. “Then I should be grateful to have your fingers in my cunt?”

 

“At least not mind it, so…” Dr. Potter said nervously. 

 

The joy she had felt teasing him evaporated. 

 

“This is a serious treatment, Miss Weasley,” he continued, now trying for a stern voice despite his brick-red face. “Many ladies in London really need it. Now, I don’t believe in forcing an unwanted treatment on anyone. I spared you that indignity, and you repay me by sullying my reputation! This treatment is  _ not sexual.  _ For you to gasp my name in such a manner-!”

 

“I was teasing you, Dr. Potter,” Ginny snapped. “I thought we were in this ridiculous folly together. Pray tell that next time, you will have grown a sense of humor!” 

 

She stomped out then, letting the office door crash against the wall as she threw it open. Dr. Potter followed with a bemused expression. People often wore this look around Ginny. 

 

“Ginevra, dear,” Molly gasped, jumping up. “Are you well? Has he hurt you?”

 

“Miss Ginevra has accomplished paroxysm,” he said before Ginny could say anything. The stared at each other for one long beat. “But her hysteria is most advanced. She is still tense and aggressive. I would suggest following up at your earliest convenience.” 

 

Ginny cast the doctor one glowering look, a dark part of her whispering that she should deny his version of events. 

 

Luna would say to be still and to think. Dr. Potter had to be the only doctor in all of London, perhaps in the whole damn world, who would “treat” her without violation.

 

Light was streaming from the treatment room, illuminating Dr. Potter like some mythical spirit. The office seemed dirty and dark in comparison.

 

“He speaks truly, mother,” Ginny finally said. “I felt the sensations the doctors have described. A great sense of relief befell me, but it was short lived.” 

 

“Excellent! We will schedule with your girl,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Would bi-weekly visits be sufficient?” 

 

While Mrs. Weasley and the receptionist worked out the dates, Ginny excused herself to use the chamber pot. Her limbs trembled as she shut the door behind her. She clenched her teeth defiantly against the flood of emotions in her chest and yanked her gloves off, shoving them down her collar. She relieved herself and wiped roughly. Her quim spasmed as she passed the rough cloth over it. 

 

She rose. Determinedly not thinking about her actions or their implications, she slumped against the wood door and yanked up her skirts. Her cunt was wet and sensitive as she rubbed her fingers over her lips. 

 

Her chilled fingers reminded her how Dr. Potter had lean over her and spread her thighs wider. She imitated this motion, letting her knees fall wide as the door supported her, grasping her thigh with her unused hand. It ached, deep and pleasurable.

 

She kneaded hard with one hand and flicked lightly with the other. She  _ was  _ dripping her juices now, just as she had teased Dr. Potter. Her wetness streamed between her fingers and over her knuckles. 

 

She thought of Luna as she came, imagining it was the other girl’s pale, pointed fingers that were circling her clit. But she thought of young Dr. Potter too, holding her open with his large, blunt hands. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muse is back! This chapter is a little shorter, but I'm happy with how it turned out and how quickly it came to me. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

Luna was waiting in her lady’s chambers, humming softly. The sound soothed her, the river-like vibrations flowing over her tangled thoughts and washing them gently away. She was nervous for Ginny, and also for herself. 

She heard the front door open. There was a curious lack of shouting and stomping as the two ladies of the house entered and separated. Luna’s chest clenched, and she took her bonnet in her hands, twiddling it idly. She hummed louder. 

The sounds of steps outside the door, the swish of skirts, and then Lady Ginny entered. Luna apprised her, fearing the worst. It took much to bring Ginny to silence. Her lady avoided Luna’s eyes as she entered, nodding formally and standing awkwardly. 

“Miss?” Luna asked. 

“You may go, Luna,” Ginny said. Luna said nothing for a moment, slightly hurt, before humming harder than before. 

“Yes, Miss,” she finally replied, worrying the thin cotton of her bonnet between her fingers. “But are you quite well? I could bring you a glass of water, or a warmed cloth?”

Ginny finally glanced up at Luna, her cheeks faintly flushed. Her expression was guilty. 

“Oh,” Luna said, and smiled at last. “Come here, my sweet.” 

She stepped to Ginny and drew her into an embrace, tilting her head up to kiss the other girl’s reddened cheeks. Ginny tried to look away, but Luna grasped her chin and peered into her lady’s eyes. 

“All is well, Ginny,” Luna said firmly. “Don’t be ashamed. Did it come upon you?”

Ginny blushed. Luna led her to the bed, massaging the juncture between her lady’s thumb and pointer finger firmly. Ginny explained the experience in a burst of words, her embarrassment giving way to defensiveness and finally to contemplation as she spoke. Through it all, Luna touched her, smoothing her hair, rubbing her neck, wiping her few leaked tears. 

“What does it mean?” Ginny asked finally. “Why would he spare me, if he truly believes in his treatment? And my reaction. Luna! It feels like a betrayal. Do you resent me? Speak truly!”

“Never, my sweet,” Luna replied. It was true. She had never believed Ginny would belong to her alone; the very thought of ownership over another person disturbed her. 

“I don’t understand you,” Ginny snapped. “The idea of another touching you turns my blood to rum. I burn at the thought of it!”

Luna merely hummed in reply. 

“I will always belong to you, my lady,” she whispered. She rose onto her knees and scooted behind Ginny, kissing her long, creamy neck. Ginny sighed and let her head fall to the side. Luna knew how she liked it best, and hastened to comply with the unspoken request. She kissed and sucked gently, alternating between running the flat of her tongue along Ginny’s skin and tracing patterns with the tip of her tongue. Ginny moaned and squirmed. 

Luna had just brought her hands to Ginny’s breasts when they heard a bell ringing from the kitchens below them. 

“We must get you to supper,” Luna whispered. She used her abandoned bonnet to wipe Ginny’s neck clean. Her sweet lady helped replace the bonnet over Luna’s wispy hair, and the two of them walked together towards the kitchens. 

They parted at the dining room, Luna excusing herself to the servants corridor.

“Where have you been?” Mrs. Bennett snapped as Luna entered the kitchen. Luna hummed, ignoring her tone, and began gathering up utensils and a polishing rag.

“My lady required my presence,” she said simply. Mrs. Bennett sniffed. “Her first appointment with Dr. Kirkham was this afternoon.”

Mrs. Bennett scoffed. Lady Weasley’s visits to Dr. Kirkham were the subject of frequent gossip among the servants, though her patronage of the doctor was hardly unique among the noble ladies. 

Luna smiled serenely and carried the silver through a side door, depositing it silently alongside the plates and bowls already set there. When she returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Bennett handed her a basket of bread, before scooping up a steaming platter of poultry. The two placed the food gently on the table. They continued this way until the table was laden with fragrant food. 

Luna entered the parlor, where her lady and the rest of the Weasley family were perched comfortably and chatting amicably. Frederick caught her eye and winked, before turning to his younger brother Ronald with a concerned expression. 

“There’s a spider upon your shoulder, brother.”

Ronald leapt from his seat with a gasp. He flapped his hands at his shoulders, and Ginny rose as well, with a cheerful “Let me help you, Ron!” 

She checked him over, surreptitiously pinning a piece of parchment to the outermost coat of his lounge suit. It undoubtedly said something rude upon it. 

“Why, Fred, how cruel!” she said, in a perfect impression of innocence. “There’s no spider at all!” 

Ronald glared at Fred, but before he could reply, Luna cleared her throat gently. 

“Your supper is served,” she said. They family filed into the dining room and Luna stationed herself in the corner, quietly monitoring the level of their drinks. The Weasley family ate and chatted quietly, their numbers greatly diminished with William, Charles, and Percival moved out on their own with their young brides. 

When Ronald finally noticed the parchment pinned to his back, his reaction was predictably loud and put-upon. Ginny and the twins laughed without restraint, despite Lady Weasley’s glare. Lord Weasley fought back his own smile, clearing his throat meaningfully as he freed his youngest son from the offending words. 

“It seems that the Doctor is no miracle worker,” Lord Weasley said mildly. “I should have thought you would return from your appointment with a more mature disposition, Ginevra.” 

Ginny sombered immediately, her mirth giving way to a petulant glare. The twins smirked at one another and Ron harrumphed loudly. 

“Only being committed could rein my dear sister in,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, you shut your mouth,” Ginny snapped. “At least I am well-liked. Only a lobotomy could make you enjoyable to be around.”

Luna glanced at Lady Weasley. She was adept at gauging Ginny’s future hungriness by the redness of her mother’s face. The madam of the house had her eyes closed, one hand placed upon her brow, but she had yet to begin swelling with rage.

“At least I’m doing something important!” Ronald snapped, the tips of his ears impressively tomato-colored. “While you protest in the street like some scarlet woman, I’m directly contributing to the success of the British Army!” 

“I’m directly contributing to the success of the British Army,” Ginny mocked in a stuffy voice. 

“When will Ginny see the doctor again, my dearest?” Lord Weasley interrupted. The four Weasley children all glanced around at their mother; Frederick and George out of a love of chaos, Ronald out of a sense of vindication, and Ginny out of a genuine desire to know the answer. In the rising tide of emotions that had come over her after her visit with Dr. Potter, she had quite forgotten to ask when they would be returning. 

“Tuesday, next,” Lady Weasley replied. Lord Weasley nodded smartly and returned to cutting his meat. 

“Good.”

“I want Luna to accompany me,” Ginny said. Lady Weasley sighed, shutting her eyes once again. Frederick and George snickered into their plates. 

“And leave you to mysteriously fail to reach your destination? I think not!” 

“Mother! Dr. Kirkham’s girl would surely write to alert you if I missed my appointment,” Ginny argued. 

Perhaps she was simply tired of arguing, or perhaps she saw it as fitting punishment for their disruption, but Lady Weasley sighed once more and opened her eyes, a rather mischievous gleam in them as she answered. 

“Very well,” she said. “But only if Ronald accompanies you!” 

\---

If it was possible, Ginny seemed even more reluctant to go to her second appointment than she had her first. Her freckled cheeks were permanently blushed, and despite Luna’s cooning words and subtle carasses, her lady seemed simply miserable as they walked to Dr. Kirkham’s. 

She retrieved some of her old spark as the trio ascended the stairs that led into his office. Luna opened the door for her lady and stood back as Ginny strode through. Ronald began to move through it as well, only to stumble back as Ginny jerked around and shoved him back outside. 

“You stay here!” she hissed. “Are you out of your mind?”

Ronald blushed deeply and sputtered. 

“She is right, Master Ronald,” Luna said mildly. “It would be most inappropriate. We will be out in three quarters of an hour.”

Ronald looked relieved and nodded, striding back down the stairs and ambling awkwardly down the street. Luna let the door fall shut behind her, hastening to catch up to Ginny. Her lady was shivering slightly as she checked in. Luna stepped close behind her, slipping one slender hand around Ginny’s elbow.

Ginny shivered against Luna’s side as they sat and waited. Despite her lady’s nervousness, Luna found the atmosphere of the room intriguing. The soft sounds emanating from behind the closed doors caused a twitching in her womb. Her nipples were hard against her rough chemise. She shamelessly tucked one leg beneath her skirts, shoving the heel of her boot against her quim. 

Ginny glanced at her and Luna was pleased to see her expression turn sly. She nudged Luna and nodded at her hidden boot. Luna only smiled and ground against it with slightly more vigor. Ginny grinned, her nervousness forgotten. She glanced around the room with her large, brown eyes, but the other ladies paid them no mind. 

“Miss Weasley,” called the receptionist, and Ginny jumped. Her face flushed again, her nervous expression returning. Luna rose gracefully, more curious than worried about what would take place. Her lady was clearly moved by Dr. Potter and Luna was overcome by the desire to pursue this curious unfolding to its end. 

The receptionist raised her eyebrows judgingly as Luna followed Ginny into the indicated room. Luna smiled at her sweetly and closed the door firmly behind her. 

The young doctor was objectively handsome. Even Luna, who had never felt lust for a man, could see that. He was only an inch or two taller than Ginny, but wiry and athletic. His messy black hair was just the sort that would make Ginny turn in the street with that sly gleam in her eye. It was his eyes, however, shockingly wide and green behind his spectacles, that most intrigued Luna. There was a slightly haunted element to them, that made Luna want to go to him and smooth the worries from his brow.

Luna could sense his nervous anticipation of the session to come. He was crossing and uncrossing his arms, as though he was quite unsure what to do with them. Luna smiled at him brightly.

“You’ve brought your maid,” he observed, in a strangely blunt tone. “An unorthodox choice.”

“I must be accompanied,” Ginny snapped. “Given our strange alliance, I thought it better to bring her along than my mother.”

The doctor grunted. 

“Miss Weasley, I don’t appreciate you wasting my time,” he said. “I’ve explained to you my stance. You are clearly in need, but I refuse to treat an unwilling patient.”

“I doubt your methods, doctor,” Ginny said. Nevertheless, she hopped up onto the strange bed. “However, I have decided to consent to treatment.”

Oh! This  _ was  _ a surprise. Dr. Potter did a double take, then narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. 

“Do you mean to dishonor me again with your baseless calling and thrashing about?” 

“Ginny likes her jokes,” Luna supplied, coming to her lady’s side and peering into the doctor’s face, perhaps an inch or two too close for comfort. He leaned back stoically. “I sense that you’ve had precious few of them in your life. You should be grateful for my lady’s good humor.” 

The doctor simply blinked at her and shook his head, seemingly unsure what to say. The expression made him seem a little vacant. He blinked again and seemed to regain his train of thought, turning sharply on his heel. He went to a bowl and soaped his hands.

“Oh, you know about germs!” Luna said in delight. 

Doctor Harry glanced over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“Yes,” he said. “It is rare to find another who takes stock in the scientific ways.” 

“Oh, yes, I love to read,” Luna agreed. “There is so much mystery in the world.”

“Indeed,” the young doctor said, drying his hands and returning to the table. “One such mystery sits before us, with a glower upon her brow.”

Ginny  _ was  _ looking rather perturbed. Luna supposed she had expected more fanfare at her announcement that she would allow the doctor to treat her. 

“What troubles you, my lady?” Luna asked. 

“While you and my maid discuss invisible beings which make us ill, I wait here in nervous anticipation!” Ginny snapped, ignoring Luna in favor of glaring at the doctor, no small amount of malice upon her face. “I bid you to hurry, so I can be done with this indignity!”

“Spare me your drama, Miss,” the doctor snapped. “Perhaps I should have my receptionist schedule you for another day? How unladylike, to become jealous over the idle chatter of a servant!” 

Ginny flushed. It was rare for a man to chastise Ginny for any legitimate reason, part of what fed her lady’s fiery eloquence. Yet, Luna could sense Ginny’s nervous anticipation, the embers of excitement nearly smothered under the flickering envy and confusion she was experiencing. Luna thought it was very likely that Ginny had been undecided on if she would consent to the treatment until the moment she blurted out her acquiescence. 

“You are right, my lady,” Luna said soothingly. “I apologize, sir, for being a distraction.”

Ginny laid back on the strange bed. Dr. Potter fastened the velvet curtain at her waist, just as Ginny had described to Luna. The maid watched his preparations with clinical fascination. As he dropped oil unto his hands, his movements steady, Luna vaguely wondered where she might procure some.

“I’m frightened,” Ginny blurted, sitting up abruptly as the doctor moved to shift her skirt. She drew her knees towards her with difficulty, tangled in the velvet curtain. 

The doctor sighed, but Luna saw sympathy on his face. 

“I understand, Miss Weasley,” he said. “It is quite queer. Why, even I, at times, feel nervous…”

He looked guilty as he said it, as though admitting a great fault. 

“But it is merely a treatment,” he added. “A medical treatment, of complete propriety.”

“Do you truly believe that?” Ginny challenged. “You would not be ashamed, then, to describe it to your sweetheart?”

“I am not courting,” Doctor Harry answered briskly. “Miss Weasley, I understand your concern, I do. But I really must insist that we continue, or reschedule. I have a long line of patients waiting.”

“Oh, you wound me,” Ginny said, a hint of a smile around her lips again. “Consent, Miss Weasley, or I will throw you over for the dozens of women waiting eagerly for my company.”

Doctor Harry rolled his eyes, but a reluctant smile had crept onto his face. Luna watched, something like anticipation blooming in her stomach. Ginny had noticed the smile as well. Flirting always raised her spirits, and she flopped back on the bed gracelessly. 

“Describe what you are going to do, so that I am not surprised,” she demanded, slipping her feet into the stirrups. The doctor blushed.

“Very well, though perhaps we should send your maid from the room…?”

“You need not worry about my virtue, Doctor,” Luna said. “As I said, I am interested in reading...of all types.”

His blush deepened. 

“Fine,” he said shortly. “Just please stand back, so that I won’t be distracted.” Luna stepped back as bid, watching as the doctor took a deep breath and mumbled something to himself. He gently pushed Ginny’s skirt up to her hips. Luna’s twat tightened.

“Miss Weasley, I am applying oil to my hands again, so that they may glide without catching on your skin.”

He did so, then reached gently beneath her dress. 

“Now I will touch you on your outer labia,” Doctor Harry said. His voice had turned rather husky. He cleared it loudly. “This is where you pubic hair grows.”

Luna watched without blinking as he leaned over Ginny slowly. Ginny tensed at the moment of contact, then let her head fall back, eyes finding Luna as she stood prone against the wall. 

“You are tense,” the doctor whispered. “I will use my palm to gently massage the area until I feel your muscles relax.” 

They were quiet for several moments. Ginny’s eyelids fluttered and she shifted slightly, angling herself to better align with Dr. Potter’s palm. A quiet hum escaped from between her lips. 

“Very good,” Dr. Potter murmured. “Breath deeply now. I will slide the base of my hand down to rest against your pubic bone.” He said this in a pained voice. “Now, I will part your labia and touch along the inner folds with my fingers.”

Ginny gasped and pitched her head backwards. The slow pace would have been intolerable between Luna and her lady, but seemed perfectly delicious when delivered by this additional person. 

Who was, after all, being  _ completely  _ appropriate. 

Dr. Potter made a small noise, leaning closer to Ginny, using his free hand to support his weight against the bed. Luna watched his shoulder pivot and roll as he stroked Ginny. He had let his eyes fall closed. 

Ginny’s chest was heaving and mottled red beneath the low light in the room. The heavy wooden panelling and dark carpets turned the entire scene into a classic painting, Ginny’s red hair and pale skin the focal point in an otherwise unremarkable sea of burnt umber. She gasped quietly and hummed again. 

Luna felt a tickle as her syrup dripped gently. She pressed her thighs together, trying to be subtle. Ginny and the doctor were so involved in one another, however, that Luna doubted they would have noticed if she hiked her skirts up and brought herself to climax right then.

“I will bring my fingers to the apex of your inner labia, a bundle of nerves called the clitoris,” Doctor Harry said. “It is very sensitive, so I will rub gently at first, until I sense you are nearing the release.” 

His voice caught and pitched through this last sentence, but they were beyond embarrassment. There was a magical, surreal quality in the air, as though the three of them were caught between time. 

Luna knew the exact moment when Dr. Potter touched Ginny’s clitoris, because she gasped sharply, her hips jerking towards the doctor. His movements were still impossibly slow and precise. Even from across the room, Luna could tell when he was circling gently, when he dipped down to gather more of Ginny’s juices, when he slid back up. 

“I’ll move quicker now,” Dr. Potter whispered. “On every third round, I will brush across the hood, like so-”

Ginny moaned and pumped her hips towards him. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “That’s good. Your paroxysm approaches now.”

In contrast to Ginny, he was pale, a feverish gleam of sweat across his face, his green eyes piercing and narrowed behind his glasses. He shifted closer to her, and Luna could tell by the tilt of his chin that he was eager to see Ginny’s face at the moment of climax.

It would happen soon, Luna knew. Ginny was more quiet and still than was usual, but the tremors had begun, her eyes rapidly flickering beneath peachy eyelids. Luna brought one hand dreamily to her own cunt, rubbing as much as she could through the layers of her skirt. 

Several things happened at once. Dr. Potter grunted, then darted his eyes to Luna in embarrassment. Upon seeing her hand between her legs, he yelped and jumped back from Ginny. Ginny squawked indignantly and strained towards him, a litany of complaints falling from her mouth. At the same moment, there was a great shouting outside the room, one voice brash and demanding, the other high pitched and panicked. Several ladies screamed. 

Ginny, Luna, and Dr. Potter all glanced at each other, bewilderment mirrored on their faces. Dr. Potter lept into action, freeing Ginny from her stirrups and whisking her dress down. He strode to the door and yanked it open.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dr. Potter said, his voice impressively deep and loud. 

“I’ve waiting an extra half-hour! Where is my sister?!” A voice roared. Ginny buried her head in her hands and groaned. 

“Ron,” she mumbled. 

“What?” Dr. Potter asked, blinking around at Ginny owlishly. His concussed expression had returned. Luna bit back an inappropriate giggle. 

“Master Ronald,” Luna said instead, sweeping past the doctor gracefully. Indeed, there in the parlor stood Ronald, the tips of his ears very red, his hands clenched angrily. 

“I tried to stop him, Doctor!” The receptionist said tearfully. “He is terrorizing the ladies with his shouting and stomping about. It is most inappropriate!” 

“This so-called Doctor is as young as I am!” Ronald roared by way of explanation. “I know you, Potter. Always up to your neck in young ladies. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? No, you’ve positioned yourself in such a profession that you may seduce the gentlewomen of society, all day long!” 

“For shame!” cried the receptionist. “You bring scandal upon this establishment, sir! I have sent for the constable!” 

Ginny looked back and forth between the doctor and Ron in confusion. There was something like betrayal on her face, but it was well masked behind furious anger.

“Get out, Ron!” she yelled. “How dare you humiliate me in this way? Leave, and I will meet you outside, provided you aren’t arrested first!” 

The watching ladies gasped, though Luna could tell that their initial fear had given way to the burning curiosity that accompanied scandal. 

Ron stammered and sputtered, no doubt very confused as to why his sister, reluctant as she had been to consent to the treatments, was now spewing vitriol at him. Finally, he turned and left, leaving the waiting parlour in shocked silence. 

Ginny’s jaw was set, her expression blazing. She snapped at the receptionist to put her on the schedule for Thursday, then stomped into the chamber room, dragging Luna in her wake. 

“I hate him,” she muttered, throwing herself against the door and hiking up her skirts with little fanfare. “I hate him, Luna. Oh, finish me, that I may forget!” 

Luna smiled against her lady’s cunt, licking and swirling it just how she liked. 

**Author's Note:**

> Did any of my sapphic readers enjoy the book Fingersmith during your burgeoning sexual awakening? I know I did. All this talk of corsets has me wanting to re-read it.


End file.
